I've been thinking a lot about how much energy I spent trying to "figure things out" in my twenties, like there was a secret code to crack. I spent so long searching for the 'right' answer, the single key that would unlock everything... only to realize the beauty was in the searching itself, the endless unfolding. And sometimes, the lack of a single answer IS the answer. The funny thing is, I think I knew on some level that there wasn't an answer key, but I was TERRIFIED of admitting it. Admitting it felt like failure, like giving up before I'd even started the exam. The pressure I put on myself to architect the perfect life... it's almost embarrassing to look back on. Like, I thought I could strategize my way into happiness, as if joy was a stock option you just had to time right. Turns out, it's more like gardening.